Many years ago, before I had children, I was a newly wed (3 years I think). Way back then, I still had a weight issue… well, I’ve ALWAYS had a weight issue.. But back then, I wasn’t fighting the “I have to eat that second hot fudge sundae, I’m eating for TWO” weight… Yeah, pre-baby shrimp and pickle juice days. (It was GOOD.. you have to try it sometime!)
Being a newlywed, kind-of, holds certain expectations. I’m sure we have all been there.. expecting the wine and romance and hanky panky late into the night by candle-light things. (yeah, blucky huh).
Well, I had expectations back then too. I expected for two things.. either he would forget, or if he remembered, it would be something that HE would enjoy, not something for ME, his valentine. My ex wasn’t a flowers kind of guy… or chocolates… or even I’ll take in the groceries…. He was a here, put on these thigh high boots I just got for you and walk around the house for me kind of guy… (yeah, they are still in my closet unused if you are wondering)
This one special Valentines day, my expectations, as I said were low.. but my hope was HIGH. I was on a diet, and he knew I was, and actually was being supportive… (a first I may add)… So imagine my surprise when I came in the door that afternoon and there was a red rose (which I am deathly allergic to . Beautiful to look at, they make me sick as a proverbial dog…. ) But there it was, a long stem red rose… At least he remembered right? I put it high on the fridge where I could see it.. and the smell would be far enough away that I could still enjoy the fact he remembered me.
There was a small heart shaped box of chocolates on my pillow… Yeah… diet is blown.. but hey, at least they are the GOOD ones with the nuts… no nougats.. (who eats that shit? especially the pink ones… *barf-o-ramma*)
So, to make sure you are on the same track as I am: I’m allergic to roses and he got me a rose. I am on a strict diet… and he got me chocolates… But he remembered me! ON the day! Not sale stuff on the 15.. but ON Valentines day!
I hear the door to our apartment open and I turn to see him come in….
bald. Totally, bald. Full beard/mustache/head of curls GONE… Hair on his chest that usually stuck out the top of his shirt… GONE…
Apparently, he had decided to “trim the bushes” and it got out of hand… 30 years old… bald as a cue ball… all because he had a need to do some manscaping…… Trim combs were not his forte’ I am surmising. He had butchered his hair so badly that he had gone to a barber for help… Who said “hey dude, your wife is gonna FLIP when she sees this.. you better get her some valentine shit” (YUP, he told me that’s why he remembered.. the barber told him)
But honey, you still have the boots I gave you last year that you have never worn in the closet……….. put them on and walk around for me…..
There was no hot monkey sex that night…. I went and did laundry at the laundromat alone..
About a week later I got a chuckle as the hair started to grow back… and the itch was killing him. Hell, 20 plus years later I STILL get a good laugh at the look of agony on his face over that itch…